Crunch. Snap. The sounds of the dead leaves beneath Eilasandree's feet releasing their final cries echoed out through the dense fog, obscuring the blackened and rotting forest around them. Behind her, the sounds of clanking could be heard as a column of men followed, haggard and dirty, even more so than what is usual for their kind. Their hands and feet were bound in cruel iron manacles as they shuffled, eyes on the dead floor and the feet of the man before them. Her sharp elven eyes, which should have long since stopped working, picked out the way the almost naked prisoners shivered. However, she was unable to tell if it was because of the cold, or because of the figures that walked beside the column, armed with rusted swords and armour and rattling with each step. The skeletons had been rather easy to create (after all, these were not sentient), simply requiring a portion of the prisoners at the rear, their shrivelled bodies still being dragged by their brethren through the rotting vale. The sight of what happened to their brothers, as well as the skeletons themselves, had quickly dissuaded the prisoners from trying to attack the lone elven woman. Well. Alone, as far as they were aware. Eventually the marching group were brought to a halt in a place where the fog was more oppressive than ever, the humans unable to see more than a foot or two ahead of them. “On your knees.” Came the imperious command of the elven noble through the fog, quickly followed by a blow to the back of the knees for any who weren't fast enough to comply, their knees digging into the wet and dead earth beneath them. The skeletons themselves moved to stand to the side, away from where the prisoners were seated, yet none of them dared to move, each of them trying their best to pierce the unassailable curtain of fog. Watching them all through the fog, the millennia old Banshee put her hands together, cupping them as a dark pink light began to form between them, piercing the fog with unnatural power. Slowly, Eilasandree spread her hands apart, the light stretching and growing as cries, rasping and desperate, began to come from the prisoners. Each man had felt sick the moment the light appeared, and as it grew pain began to wrack through them, before finally a stream of black fog burst forth from the mouths of each man, streaming through the air and meeting with the pink light, turning it a dark purple as each man began to physically wither away before their very eyes, muscles shrinking and atrophying as eyes dried up and hair fell out. Slowly the cries stopped, replaced by the sound of bodies too weak to support their barely living host collapsing into the earth. As for the purple light of magical power, it grew in size until it was towering in its size, a purple mass of energy easily capable of fitting a giant within it as it pierced the trees. An ethereal howl of wind tore through the misty forest, clearing away the wall of fog and revealing the small clearing surrounded by trees that they resided in, the only notable feature being the cave entrance to the earth below jutting out within the centre of the clearing. Eilasandree herself was too busy to note this, however, too busy focusing upon maintaining and shaping the necromantic energies above her head, both arms outstretched above her. It was difficult, shaping the energy not only as a mass resurrection, but also as a beacon to those who were necromantically inclined while also hiding the signal from prying eyes. But now... she believed it was time. Slowly, the Banshee's outstretched arms moved downwards, the ball of necromantic energy following as it sank slowly into the earth. Nothing happened as the energy made contact with the long since dead ground until the final section of the ball was fully submerged. A titanic boom rang out as the earth beneath her feet shook, lines of jagged pink energy appearing from where the sphere had disappeared and racing through the earth in ancient, unholy patterns, tainting the earth around her even as the rumbling of the earth began to intensify, and the first hand, clad in armour that bore an ancient, long since lost symbol, burst from the earth. Shaking her head slightly, Eilasandree took a seat upon the earth to deal with the after effects of extending your magic too far, even as all around her more and more ancient soldiers burst forth and the sound of clanking could be heard from the cave entrance. Despite her exhaustion and the mental migraine she was dealing with, Eilasandree couldn't help but smile. The call had been put out, and now all she needed to do was wait for the answer.